


Super Bowl

by kjack89



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Established Relationship, Excessive Drinking, Fluff, M/M, Marijuana
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-03
Updated: 2014-02-03
Packaged: 2018-01-11 01:47:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1167163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kjack89/pseuds/kjack89
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Enjolras wants to use Groundhog Day as the perfect launch of their animal rights campaign, Grantaire just wants to get drunk, Bahorel just wants to watch the Puppy Bowl, and Marius honestly thought they’d be watching the Super Bowl.</p>
<p>Super Bowl Sunday shenanigans with a healthy dose of relationship talk between Enjolras and Grantaire.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Super Bowl

**Author's Note:**

> This really was supposed to be about Super Bowl Sunday shenanigans. It instead turned into Enjolras and Grantaire having a fairly serious conversation about their relationship.
> 
> That basically sums up my fanfic writing career thus far.
> 
> Usual disclaimer: I own nothing but my typos.

When Marius had gotten the text from Courfeyrac that read simply, “Bowl party tonight our place xo ;)”, he had initially hesitated at going. “I don’t think they all like me,” he confessed to Cosette, who had hummed unconcernedly.

“I’m sure they like you just fine,” she told him. “Besides, it’s a Super Bowl party. It’s not like you’ll be debating politics.” Marius flushed, remembering all too well his first Les Amis meeting, which had admittedly not gone well. “And this way you don’t have to worry about watching the game with Papa.”

If possible, Marius went even whiter at the thought of watching football with Valjean, who still scared him, even after all this time. Between Enjolras and Valjean, the choice was easy, and so Marius stood in front of Combeferre, Enjolras and Courfeyrac’s, spinach-artichoke dip in one hand while he nervously knocked with the other.

Courfeyrac answered the door and beamed at him, leaning in to kiss both his cheeks. “You came!” he exclaimed, gripping Marius’s shoulders as he looked him up and down. “And you wore a Broncos jersey! That’s…cute.”

“Should I not have?” Marius asked anxiously, following Courfeyrac inside. “I didn’t know if you all were rooting for the Broncos or the Seahawks.”

Just inside the door, Grantaire appeared to be trying to chug from a bottle of whiskey, though he stopped when he saw Marius. “Pontmercy!” he exclaimed, swaying slightly, and it took him a moment to focus on what Marius was wearing. “Why’re you wearing  _that_?”

“You  _are_  rooting for the Seahawks, aren’t you?” Marius asked miserably. “I knew I should have gone for the Seahawks jersey, but Cosette was convinced that orange was a much better color on me…”

He trailed off as he looked around, realizing that no one was wearing any Seahawks apparel and that the TV wasn’t even on right channel for the Super Bowl. He glanced back at Courfeyrac, who looked like he was trying not to laugh, and asked awkwardly, “This  _is_  a Super Bowl party, isn’t it?”

Courfeyrac shrugged. “Yes, and at the same time, very much no. Thankfully for you, no one here will care that you’re wearing a Manning jersey.”

“Not true,” Joly called from where he was sitting with Jehan in the corner. “Peyton Manning is a dick.” He glared darkly at Marius as if his very presence was insulting.

Jehan held up a finger and said solemnly, “No, no, Peyton Manning  _has_  a dick” before dissolving into hysterical giggles, followed closely by Joly, who giggled as he took a long pull from the glass pipe he had just taken from Jehan’s hand.

When Marius gave Courfeyrac a look that was part bewildered, part terrified, Courfeyrac slung an arm around his shoulders and led him towards the kitchen. “See, most of us aren’t big fans of organized sports,” Courfeyrac explained cheerfully. “In fact, if you know what’s good for you, don’t even mention the idea to Enjolras or you’ll spend the next three hours being told all the things that are wrong with organized sports from the dramatic overpay of athletes to a lack of living wages for cheerleaders.” He handed Marius a beer and added, “Seriously, don’t ask.” Marius nodded, still looking confused, and Courfeyrac continued, “So when the Super Bowl comes around, it’s not like any of us are going to actually watch it, you know. We throw a ‘bowl’ party instead, and you can interpret that how you want.”

Marius shot a glance back at Jehan and Joly, who were still laughing, and asked cautiously, “So, they both interpreted that as…”

“As smoking a bowl, yes,” Courfeyrac said, grinning. “Or several bowls, in fact, and a few bongs and God only knows what else. They’re, uh, celebrating the fact that the teams from the two states where marijuana is legal made it to the Super Bowl. Or something like that.”

Nodding as if he understood, which he both did and didn’t, Marius asked cautiously, “So what are the rest of you doing?”

Courfeyrac grabbed a beer for himself. “Well, Grantaire, as you saw, is apparently trying to beat his record for earliest alcohol poisoning case that the hospital has to deal with today.” Though Courfeyrac’s voice was dry, there was a grimness to it, especially as he glanced back at Grantaire, who was now moodily sipping at the same bottle of whiskey. “As for most of us, we’re watching the Puppy Bowl on Animal planet. Bahorel is insisting on it.”

Though Marius nodded, he also looked slightly terrified as he asked, “And Enjolras…?”

“Ah. Well. Enjolras is a different case — I mean, isn’t he always? You’ll find our dear leader upstairs in his bedroom, ignoring us all and pretending we don’t exist, which partially has to do with what today is and partially has to do with Grantaire.”

“What today is?” Marius asked, letting Courfeyrac steer him onto the couch in the living room.

Combeferre looked up, smiling at Marius, which if anything made Marius look more terrified. “February 2nd,” Combeferre told him. “Groundhog Day. Enjolras wants to use this holiday to get the ball moving on our animal rights campaign.”

Marius looked from Combeferre to Courfeyrac before saying tentatively, “I didn’t know you had an animal rights campaign?”

Courfeyrac shrugged. “We don’t. And Enjolras will remember by tomorrow that he hates animal rights campaigns because they divert attention and money from the suffering of our fellow citizens. But for now, he’s using it as a distraction.”

“Because of Grantaire?” Marius asked, looking over at where Grantaire had joined Jehan and Joly and was taking a bong hit as they spoke. “Wait, but I thought they were together now?”

Combeferre and Courfeyrac exchanged dark glances, and Combeferre sighed and explained, “They are, but this is the first real party among us all since they got together and Grantaire was terrified of getting too drunk and messing everything up. So instead, he pregamed, and Enjolras found out and got mad, so now Grantaire’s drinking as much as he can to be an asshole.”

Marius nodded, his expression contemplative, and after a long moment, offered, “That’s kind of fucked up.”

“Preach,” Bahorel snorted, clinking his beer bottle against Marius’s. “Now everyone be quiet, the Puppy Bowl is about to begin.”

As it turned out, watching the Puppy Bowl was much more enjoyable than watching the Super Bowl anyway, since with an entire game dedicated to cute puppies, pretty much everyone was a winner. It didn’t stop there from still being arguments — Feuilly and Bahorel got in a particular vocal argument over whether Bach or Ginger was the cutest puppy — and though there didn’t appear to be any particular rules to the Puppy Bowl, that stopped no one from making bets. Marius found himself forking over twenty bucks for a bet he didn’t remember making but seemed to involve something with squeaky toys.

In the meantime, there was no word from Enjolras, who remained upstairs, and Grantaire seemed to grow moodier as he drank, though his expression always softened when he looked at the puppies. Finally, though, he struggled to his feet and clambered up the stairs, leaving everyone else silent as they watched him go. Finally, Marius was the one to ask, tentatively, “Is that a good idea?”

Everyone shrugged pretty much simultaneously and Bossuet said, “Five bucks says angry sex.”

“Ten says make-up sex,” Jehan chimed in, nodding sagely as others murmured in agreement and disagreement

“If the end result is still sex, does it matter?” Marius asked Courfeyrac out of the corner of his mouth.

Feuilly raised an eyebrow at him. “Of course it does. You betting?”

Marius flushed as everyone stared at him. “Um, two bucks that they have a rational and adult conversation about what happened today?”

This merited mostly laughter, until Combeferre interjected smoothly, “Twenty dollars that they wind up engaged.”

“You think Grantaire is going to propose?” Courfeyrac practically squawked, accidentally elbowing Marius in his excitement.

Combeferre shrugged. “No. I think Enjolras is going to propose. Either that or suggest taking their relationship to the next level, be it moving in together or something like that.”

This garnered silence for a few long moments, and then everyone turned back to the puppy bowl with only minimal grumbling. Marius glanced around, confused. “Is no one going to take him up on that?” he asked Courfeyrac, who just shrugged.

“We’ve learned that when it comes to Enjolras, no one bets against Combeferre.”

* * *

 

As it was, at the moment, no one was proposing or anything of the sort. Instead, Grantaire was busy emptying the contents of his stomach into the toilet while a mostly stoic Enjolras held his dark curls back off his face. “Better out than in,” Enjolras said bracingly, his hand cool against his boyfriend’s sweaty forehead. “You know that this is what happens when you drink this much.”

“I thought you were mad at me,” Grantaire grumbled in between retches, his face pallid.

Enjolras snorted. “Oh, I  _am_  mad at you. Don’t worry about that. You shouldn’t have been pregaming something like this.”

Grantaire shrugged unhappily, scooting back from the toilet, clearly done for the moment. “I just didn’t want to drink too much tonight and disappoint you.”

“That worked out well for both of us,” Enjolras said coolly, then sighed. “Sorry. That was rude, even for me.”

Cocking his head, Grantaire said in mock disbelief, “Did you just  _apologize_ to me?”

“I am working on being better about doing that,” Enjolras told him, a little wryly. “Just like I thought you were going to work on your drinking.” Grantaire started to say something, but Enjolras just shook his head. “If you’re done for the moment, why don’t you go lie down?”

He held his hand out to Grantaire, who took it tentatively, allowing Enjolras to pull him to his feet and lead him into his bedroom, where Enjolras quickly cleared off some of the papers from his bed. “Go ahead, lie down,” he told Grantaire. “I still have some work to do.”

"You should go watch the Puppy Bowl with the others," Grantaire protested. "I’ll be fine, and we both know you’re not actually going to start an animal rights campaign. You can’t  _stand_  PETA.”

Enjolras shrugged. “Be that as it may, I’m not going to abandon my boyfriend as he sleeps off a bender, even for the sake of adorable puppies.” He watched Grantaire clamber onto the bed, uncharacteristic concern on his face. “I love you, you know.”

Grantaire snorted and didn’t meet his eyes. “Yeah, right.”

“I love you,” Enjolras repeated steadily. “Enough to hold your hair back as you threw up most of the seven-layer bean dip that I spent most of the morning making.”

“Funny, it tastes store-bought coming back up,” Grantaire managed weakly. He blinked at Enjolras and told him reluctantly, “Though that does take dedication.”

Enjolras just shook his head tiredly. “It’s more than dedication,” he said quietly.

Grantaire shook his head, also suddenly exhausted. “We’ve been dating for like a month, Enjolras, so forgive me for thinking it’s a little soon to be throwing ‘I love you’ around.”

Raising one eyebrow, Enjolras pointed out, “You told me you loved me before we even went on our first date.”

Grantaire shook his head more determinedly. “But that was  _different_ ,” he insisted.

"Why?" Enjolras challenged, his eyes dark. "Because you think that it’s only you that can love me this soon?"

Shaking his head yet again, Grantaire asked quietly, “Can we not do this right now? Please?”

Enjolras frowned. “No, I think we need to do this now. The only thing that you’ve done today is try to push me away, and I’m tired of it! Tell me what’s wrong and what’s going on with you because I’m not a mind-reader, and if it’s something I did, I’m sorry!”

"It’s not you!" Grantaire snapped. "It’s never fucking you! It’s always me being stupid and me being insecure and me trying to deal with the stupid shit that you shouldn’t have to!"

They both glared at each other for a long moment until Enjolras sighed and shook his head. “But I  _want_  to deal with it,” he said quietly. “That’s what this whole thing is about. I  _love_  you, and it’s not something that comes with terms and conditions and qualifications that make you hide things from me.”

Grantaire’s voice was quiet as he said, “You were mad at me for drinking.”

"No, I was mad at you because you were pregaming a party with our friends and wouldn’t tell me what about today was making you want to drink," Enjolras corrected, just as quietly.

Grantaire shrugged, looking down at the bedspread. “I just didn’t want to disappoint you.”

Enjolras shook his head exasperatedly. “It keeps coming back to that, you being afraid of disappointing me, but Grantaire, I’ve seen you at your absolute worst before we started dating. Several times, in fact, including once when you landed yourself in the hospital. And I still chose this, and would choose it again.” He paused before adding, a little desperately, “I love you.”

After another long pause, Grantaire looked up at him almost shyly. “You do, don’t you,” he mused.

Enjolras smiled then, his first real smile of the evening. “Yeah, I do.”

“Well, good, because I love you, too,” Grantaire told him. Enjolras just laughed and kissed him, though Grantaire quickly protested, “Ew, I just puked, let me brush my teeth or something!”

“It’s really no worse than your morning breath,” Enjolras said, shrugging, though he kissed the tip of Grantaire’s nose, which made the other man laugh. “I really do love you.”

Grantaire nodded, letting Enjolras pull him down on to the bed and cuddling up next to him. He rested his head against Enjolras’s chest and asked off-handedly, “Can we get a puppy?”

“A puppy?” Enjolras repeated, laughing lightly. “Don’t you think that’s an awfully big commitment?”

Shrugging, Grantaire yawned, burrowing closer against Enjolras. “Honestly, it’s no bigger a commitment than holding my hair back as I puke.”

Enjolras laughed and kissed Grantaire’s forehead. “There is that. But don’t we have to live together to get a dog together?”

Grantaire froze, his eyes opening wide as he twisted his head to stare up at Enjolras. “Are you saying you want to live together?”

Enjolras stayed steadily back at Grantaire. “I’m not opposed to the idea. Are you?”

Grantaire just gaped at him, searching wildly for the words he wanted to say. “I don’t think we’re ready for that?” he managed finally.

Something softened on Enjolras’s face, and he kissed Grantaire lightly. “And that’s fine. I don’t want you to do anything you’re not comfortable with.” He frowned, his expression turning serious. “But don’t make the mistake of thinking that I’m not committed to this, Grantaire, because I am. I’m in this for the long haul, and your behavior today…though it hurts me to see you like that, it’s not going to drive me away. Understood?”

Grantaire stared at him for a long moment before asking cautiously, “So, to be clear, what you’re saying is that if we lived together we could get a puppy?”

Enjolras rolled his head but laughed softly. “Let’s work on the living together thing first, ok?”

“Ok,” Grantaire agreed, smiling slightly as he laid his head back down against Enjolras’s chest. After a long moment, he asked, “What do you think the over-under was on make-up sex?”

Shrugging, Enjolras said casually, “Combeferre probably bet that I was going to ask you to move in together, so…”

Grantaire laughed. “Let me guess, you talked about it with him first?”

“Of course,” Enjolras said lightly, running his fingers through Grantaire’s curls. “And I’m sure when everyone finds that out they’re going to be very angry with Combeferre. But we will cross that bridge when we get to it.”

Grantaire nodded, his eyes already closing as he drifted off to sleep, lulled by Enjolras’s fingers in his hair and the steady rhythm of Enjolras’s heartbeat. “When we get to it,” he agreed, before adding one more time, “I love you.”

“I know,” Enjolras murmured, kissing the top of his head. “I love you, too.”


End file.
